Sonnet 216

Sweet robin red breast, harbinger of spring,
Raise up your voice and to the heavens call,
That your dear mate may hear the love you bring
And music such, stark dormant earth enthrall.
Your voice awakes the slumb’ring sprigs of May,
Imbues a blush of envy to buff hills,
As if each note your precious throat may say
Adds dabs of color to drab winter’s twill.
So is it now as it was times gone by,
A joyous lover paints the world in song,
As if his brush of love could gloss the sky
And his blithe trill could right each earthly wrong.
Sweet robin sing, and here your heart outpour!
That every brumal heart might spring adore.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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